Chapter 143 — The Storm Gathers

Before the Church of the Storm Lord turned into a dark sect, the Storm Lord's priests had been humanity's only shelter and guide when sailing beyond the lighthouse beams. Those priests, protected by the god, could find the correct route back to harbor amid chaos and darkness. But after the Church of the Storm Lord broke with all the orthodox churches and fell into a dark sect, all the ocean routes came to an end. People had no choice but to shrink from the sea in fear. The captains and sailors who once dared hunt fortune in the far waters became cowards who dared sail only along the coastline. And the Storm Lord's priests and clerics—they left the continent, left the sight of the world, walked upon the waves into the far sea, and from then on called themselves the Children of the Storm.

They no longer believed in or worshipped the Storm Lord, but worshipped the storm itself. They held fast to the conviction that the tides would destroy the whole world—whether by rising or by falling.

Deep in the Endless Sea to the east, on a nameless stretch of large island reefs, the Children of the Storm were frantically repairing fortifications, mending totems, and raising temporary barriers. The sky, thick with dark clouds, hung like an inverted vortex, and wind and thunder were brewing within it. Torrential rain poured ceaselessly from the sky, washing the boundary between heaven and sea into a blur, even giving one the sense that the seawater was about to turn upside down.

Even on the Endless Sea, where storms were frequent, such terrifying phenomena rarely appeared. It meant only one thing: the sea demons were coming again.

A Storm Hierophant stood on a watchtower in the downpour, his black robe snapping in the gale. The rain seemed unable to affect his vision; he only gazed intently at the ever more violent waters, as though staring into an abyss.

The Endless Sea—it wraps this world in its fickle waters, burying deep those truths enough to drive men mad, and leaving mortals a gentle, water-like illusion. And those foolish mortals—the little reason and wisdom they have left does its work; by instinct it makes them revere the endless ocean, and in that reverence keep away from its deepest places.

Such weakness may well be the finest gift the Creator left to humanity. But unfortunately, the Children of the Storm, who once faced the truth directly, have already lost that happiness of escape.

The vortex of dark clouds in the sky sank a little lower, and the terrifying howl of wind and thunder poured ceaselessly into the ear. The Storm Hierophant raised his head and saw abnormal waves rolling up on the distant sea horizon. Some blurred shapes were emerging from beneath the surface—horrific, hideous deep-sea beasts, dozens or even hundreds of times larger than normal creatures. And among them were mixed small female figures.

At first glance an ordinary person would likely think those "witches" were commanding the giant beasts, but the Storm Hierophant, who had dealt with sea demons many times, knew very well that those beasts were no commanded monsters at all—like the female figures mixed in among them, they too were sea demons.

"They" were one and the same race, yet possessed an infinity of terrifying incarnations.

The Sea-Soul Horn was sounded, the Children of the Storm raced madly to their battle stations, and the Hierophant's voice pierced the storm, ringing out across the entire island reef:

"The sea demons are here!!!"